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“What the fuck, Yuriy?” the bartender squeaked. “Don’t mislead him, or he might kill me. Tell him nothing happened!”

“You think he’ll believe me?” Yuriy flicked his eyes to me, amused. “We’re both practically naked.”

I reversed my hold, shoving my forearm across the bartender’s throat. His eyes bulged, lips bluing as he gasped.

“We only drank—” he choked. “Food—just food—I swear.”

Did he think I was an idiot? Drinking didn’t require stripping. If Yuriy fucked him, I’d kill them both.

“It’s all right, Dylan,” Yuriy said lazily. “Stas doesn’t want me, so why should he care if I fuck you?”

“Yuriy,” I snarled, voice cracking like a whip. “Do not play games with me. I will kill him.”

The bartender wheezed some pitiful “no—please—” but I shut him up with more pressure.

“Why would you kill him?” Yuriy sauntered over, close enough for his heat to warm me. His hand came down on my arm, soothing and provocative. “Unless you’re finally admitting you can’t stand the thought of me fucking another man. You only want it to be you. Isn’t that so, Stas?”

Dylan clawed at me weakly, fading fast, but my gaze was locked on Yuriy.

“I’ll ask you once more,” I growled. “Did you put your fucking dick inside him?”

Dylan went limp, sliding against the wall, air whistling desperately through his throat.

Yuriy sighed as if put-upon. “No, I didn’t touch him.”

Relief crashed through me so hard I swayed.

I released the bartender.

Turned.

And punched Yuriy square in the mouth.

He stumbled, landing against a couch, the ice in his glass chiming. Dylan collapsed to the floor, gasping like a landed fish, wheezing and choking.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out,” I ordered without looking at him.

“You’re insane,” Dylan rasped, pushing up on shaky arms. He scrambled up and disappeared into the bedroom. A minute later, he stormed out with clothes clutched to his chest, face blotchy.

“Lose my number, Yuriy,” he said, close to tears. “You’re a damn asshole for watching him assault me and not doing anything.”

The door slammed shut.

I didn’t look away from Yuriy. He was still sprawled on the couch, taking in the whole thing. He touched his lip, came away with blood, and sucked it slowly between his teeth.

“Feel better?” He drained the liquid in his glass, dropped the cigarette in it, and placed it on the floor. He rose to his feet.

“Would you have fucked him if I hadn’t shown up?” I demanded, voice rough.

He tilted his head, eyes darkening. “Maybe. You’re not giving me much to work with, Stas. I’ve already made it very plain I want to fuck you. When are you going to admit you want the same?”

“Why the fuck do you think I came?”

I stalked toward him, grabbed him by the throat, and dragged him backward. He let me. He wanted it just as much as I did.

We reached the bedroom doorway, and I froze.

It was beautiful. Candles were everywhere, their soft light spilling over the enormous bed. Fresh sheets were turned down, and a bottle of lube stood on the nightstand, waiting.